Having a bipolar kind of week

As in: happiness, joy, joy, celebrations, birthday parties, sweetness and love. Followed immediately by despair, pain, frustration, stomach-aches and tiredness, temper tantrums. And I'm not just talking about the kids.

For example, this was our Monday: Owen went to Zoo camp for the morning while Elliot and I went grocery shopping. (surprise! Grocery shopping can actually be enjoyable with just one child). Then we picked up Owen from camp and the day started to go a little wonky. He was tired, hot and hungry. Elliot was hungry too. I was hungry too so we hurried home as safely as we could while I tried to keep the backseat riders from eating each other. Then I made lunch. So far so good, though Owen was in a "hot, tired, hungry" funk which manifested itself this way: staring out the window while he ate his lunch and responding to my queries regarding zoo camp with teenager-like carelessness. ("I don't remember", "I don't know", etc). Lunch finished and we cleaned up and played for awhile. There was some minor squabbling while I washed the dishes, a few choruses of "MINE!!" and a few yelps from Percy as Elliot tried to grab his tail for the 1,000th time. Pretty normal.

Then it was Elliot's nap time. He went to sleep no problem. Yay! then Owen and I had our daily negotiation about how we would spend the afternoon. I needed to make some muffins and clean the cat boxes, Owen wanted to play Legos (no surprise there) and work on his wooden Pirate ship... so we agreed that I would clean up while he played and then he would help me make muffins and while the muffins baked I would play Legos with him. Sounded good. I scooped the litter boxes. The oven preheated. Then Elliot woke up crying. Not a good sign. I went in to rock him back to sleep and finally got him down again. Came out and Owen was still sitting on the couch waiting for me. I had my daily guilt wash over me while I thought of Owen sitting patiently while I tended to Elliot's needs.... I find myself feeling so sorry for Owen sometimes! So, we decided to glue his pirate ship together and then make the muffins.... Done. Muffins were baking. Done. We get out the Legos. Guess who wakes up? AAAACK! Just when I'm sitting down to spend some sweet time with Owen. OK, re-arrange the afternoon. No problem.

We all play together for a little while and then have a snack. It's only 3pm and Paul doesn't get home from work until 7pm and dinnertime. So, another re-arrangement of the daily schedule in my head..... idea! We can go to the park! I'm feeling a little harried at this point because the noise level has reached an uncomfortable level and while neither boy is doing anything really wrong, I still can't hear myself think from the static of noise..... I go to change Elliot's diaper and he starts his kicking and screaming and punching routine..... I manage to wrangle the diaper on the little octopus and then pick him up. He nuzzles into my shoulder and the little sweetheart bites me. Yes, BITES ME. It hurts, too. I scream "NO!!!!!!!" and put him down in his crib to let him know I am not pleased. I leave the room to wash my hands and take a breath, trying not to hold a grudge and then I hear him scream and go back to his room to see his leg is now caught in the side of the crib. His little thigh is swelling against the crib railing as tries to pull the leg back through and I start trying to pull apart the rails, sweating, swearing, fighting back tears. Finally I get him out, and the crisis has passed. The house is stuffy, hot and everyone is cranky again.....

That's it. We are going to the park. I get Elliot in the stroller and start walking. I don't let Owen put on his helmet or get his scooter because we NEED to be at the park NOW. So we just go. We get there and there's a cool breeze, the boys run, we all breathe sighs of relief. It's an instant remedy. Followed by several hours of getting dirty, digging in the sand, collecting sticks and throwing rocks into the trees. Sweet, sweet summer bliss.

Then we had to get home for dinner. We walk home leisurely, enjoying the early evening, chatting. We get inside the house and instantly chaos erupts again. Elliot screams and tries to climb onto the oven, Owen complains about being hungry and starts jumping around, bouncing off the walls. The din escalates as I try to make dinner while keeping the boys from killing each other or themselves. Finally Paul comes home. Dinner is made. We sit and eat. It's almost bedtime...I think I can make it.

I'm starting to think we should just spend the day at the park and I should never cook another meal again but have everything delivered to us at the first sign of hunger. Sometime I feel like we are barely surviving our days here. They go by in an endless variation of injury, hunger, crankiness, and sometimes fun. (Summer is supposed to be fun, right?)

The days are just so long, and these kids eat ALL DAY LONG. Seriously, I can't keep them in snacks. Anyone have any advice on how to survive the summer?